Life's a Stitch

1. I've been released from ankle jail getting the official word that this time the ankle has actually healed. Not like the last time, which has left me with a permanently broken right ankle. Both will require bracing for the Camino. Better safe than sorry, as my Mom would say.

2. My son's movie, a documentary about a chapter in our family's history, is being released (on DVD or pay per view) North America-wide on July 21st. Pre-orders for Taking My Parents to Burning Man are being accepted on iTunes. Aside from the basic premise of the movie, the post filming experience has been a journey in itself: many awards, positive reviews, and interesting discussions. It has done wonders for my discomfort with public speaking. It's funny to read reviews and people's take on things. The last one, in Vancouver's Georgia Straight, described daughter Mari as sagacious, me as easy going, and Chuck simply as white haired. 

Be forewarned, it's not everybody's cup of tea.  The movie does border at times on the risque side. It really shouldn't come as a shock, it's about the Burning Man festival. The rating process is not yet complete, but it is not PG. There is one F word said in frustration and some glimpses of bare bottoms and breasts. There are people in the background smoking joints and drinking alcohol. I've seen worse on prime time.

There are now two versions of the trailer, one more tame than the original.  To date the film is rated 4.8 out of 5 on IMDB and 8.9 out of 10 on Rotten Tomatoes.

If you are so inclined, give it a watch. You'll laugh, maybe cry, and you'll definitely have opportunities to shake your head in disbelief. And for you Vancouverites, it will be playing at the Rio this Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. Have fun!

 

That title came back to me, having first been exposed to the expression as the name of a column in my high school newspaper. Funny how things just pop into your brain.

The first month of retirement has been happy busy with visitors from Alberta, Seattle and Germany. I included previous photos of some of the AB crew. Representing Seattle is Blogless Marsha, auto correct desperately wants to call her Bloodless. A nasty feature of  modern life that auto correct can be, but doesn't she look glamorous in her Dame Edna shades? 

We had so much fun, the four of us experiencing Pink Martini from second row seats. Second time for them, fourth for us. Chuck says we'd better be careful lest we get labelled groupies.

Our beautiful friends from Berlin, were here for the Women's World Cup, with their engaging and adorable 17 month old. I liked C's observation regarding communication with the little one: we may not have understood our respective languages, but we understood each other.

Chuck got Pavlova for the second time. Miraculous!  As far as he's concerned. Whipping cream was on sale for .95 per litre for Father's Day and the first go around only required half. I knew the leftover cream would end up in his tummy arteries somehow. This way ensured his ingestion would be proportional, as I am sure that although he could consume the entire half litre, it was more fun to share it with company.

I got in some drawing time, thanks to blogger Carol, who reminded me of this ink technique. I combined it with pencil drawing. It's too hot here to touch yarn. A pencil I can handle.

 And that ends the bits for today. More to follow. Think Bryant, think yet another school bus of another colour. They get brighter each time.

Ask C what he wants for his birthday (Father's Day, Easter, Christmas…). His answer is always Pavlova, believing that a quarterly indulgence of sugar and fat won't kill him. Well, I figure if it does, let him go happy. At some point, partners of those with health related diets have to have to throw up their hands in submission.  But that's another post. 

The trouble with Pavlova is that his favourite local source, Sweet Carrie's in Lonsdale Quay Market, has gone out of business. Armed with our favourite Aussie recipe, sugar, eggs and whipped cream I embarked on a surprise that's hard to keep secret when ten minutes of high speed beating are required. It may look like a traditional North American meringue, however the inside of this one is a soft and foamy delight. Follow that recipe and it's a guaranteed success.

Successfully hobbling down the stairs Pavlova in hand, ankle encased in cast, one step away from the spare fridge, off it flew form the pan on its magic carpet of baking parchment. Oopsie. C very happily volunteered to clean it up, spoon in hand.

 

Somehow, I doubt that picture would be used in a cookbook as a serving suggestion.

I'm retired and supposedly have all the time in the world. But why spend it in a hot kitchen? My retirement strategy included the decision to do it in summer, and although technically spring, the weather has cooperated beautifully. 

My traditional cabbage roll recipe always turns out well, and this cheaty version may not look as pretty, but it takes a fraction of the time and effort and tastes just as good. Fits into my retirement plans just fine. Maybe I should have routinely done it this way when I was working. Seriously, I'd come home from work and make the long version. Over time I came to realize I used cooking for stress reduction. It's ironic, now that I have the time, the levels of stress are lower and I'm cooking more simply.

Cabbage Roll Casserole:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2 lbs ground beef

1 C chopped onion

2 cloves garlic

3 T olive oil

1/2 C catsup

1 14 oz can tomato sauce

1 can tomato soup

1 can condensed beef broth

2 C hot water

1 C uncooked brown or white rice

1 t dry thyme

1 t dry dill

pepper to taste

3lbs chopped cabbage or 3 bags of chopped cole slaw veggies.

In a Dutch oven or large pot that has a cover, brown the first three ingredients in the olive oil. Drain off any liquid and add all but the cabbage. Bake in covered pot for an hour. Stir in cabbage, replace cover and cook for an additional 30 minutes.

Try it and let me know what you think. 

That's what I learned on my last day of work. And you can't expect to leave without tears. It was hectic right to the end, so although I have handed my office over to my wonderful replacement, I have a few hours to do from home.

The celebrations were lovely, a community reception and dinner with the family, staff and members of the board. So many good memories.

An appropriate gift:

The retirement speech:

Download Retirement speech-3

Chuck tries his comedy routine at the restaurant, Anatoli Souvlaki:

My favourite pictures. Auntie Mari and Rye and one at the dinner:

I was asked what I wanted for a retirement gift. I decided on one that's practical, to be used on a regular basis, but keep-sakey, something I couldn't lose, an item that could be passed down in the family someday, and preferably something vintage that can continue it's life happily in our house. Try filling those requirements!

Here it is, my giant Danish silver serving spoon from 1880. It was probably a gift for a silver wedding anniversary. Coincidentally one set of initials engraved on the back for that event were the same as my Dad's and the date was on my birthday, March 15th.

Now on to the next phase!

 

All I can say is I'm relieved our trek on the Camino is over three months away because that will give me plenty of time to lose this footwear. This new boot has better grip than my last one, perfect for an invitation to join friends for a day on the water.

I know, I know, all you long term readers of this blog have that look of incredulity as you realize what this means. I have gone for a matched set of ankle fractures. This time is more convenient, however, being on my left non-driving side.

I'm as dumbfounded as you, embarrassed even. How am I going to show my face at work with yet another encased leg? Especially considering the way it happened. Not a hiking/geocaching accident for a change. I would have been safer hiking as I'm extra careful, considering my previous misfortune, wearing a brace and using hiking poles. Nope, this time was walking on a sidewalk of paving bricks, rolling my ankle over the side of a brick one way, and the rest of me going the other, landing quite disgracefully on my side. I knew instantly it was broken, having felt the telltale snap.

Camino training has come to a standstill, so to speak. It's a good thing it happened now, because my Camino will require extra precautions with the security of braces on both ankles.

I'll just come right out and say it. I have an issue as a chair rescuer. You know those chairs, left at the end of the driveway with a hand written free sign taped to the back? When it comes to those, I have very little resistance, but only for ones that aren't upholstered or need little attention. My history includes amongst others: pub chairs, a rattan rocker, and a set of the blue plastic classroom variety.

In recent years I met someone else with the same problem. She even has a blog, a place to display her finds. C is annoyed that she has legitimized my habit. But the truth is, I've had this for a long time, prior to my husband as a matter-of-fact. 

Here are my two recent finds:

We've placed this one at 21-40 years old, probably one of the first official Panton chair knockoffs. B commented that it cups his butt perfectly.

I found this one on Mother's Day after our hiking/geocaching/picnic outing, where an annoying dog, bolted out of nowhere, jumped in my lap and stole my sandwich. Granted, it was an off leash area and it wasn't as annoying as the number of full poop bags we encountered abandoned by the side of the trail. Back to the chair. This one, an Ikea Poang was left at a bus stop. 

Looks like a comfy knitting/crocheting spot and where I might park my New Wave afghan when it's finished. 

The chair pictures were taken after wrestling the foam out of the cover, washing it and completing round two of the wrestling match. And it still needs an ironing. A lot of work for a chair that only costs $89 new. I guess it's the thrill of the hunt that makes it so addicting.

One day down and 13 to go on round two of treatment for H Pylori. I was one of the lucky 20% who don't respond to the first go at medication for this crazy infection. This regimen requires 22 pills per day, 20 being antibiotics with all the associated side effects. Once again no alcohol, but worse for me is the limitation on dairy foods. Cheese is my staple.

I've got it figured out, though. Meds are to be taken six hours apart, no dairy allowed two hours prior or after. If I have to get up in the middle of the night for meds anyway, might as well make it work for me. Setting my alarm for a 4:30am dose lets me have opportunities for cheese or yogurt with each meal. 

As always creativity equals comfort. Last night included pain-free knitting. I'm realizing that European style knitting is harder on the thumb joints and gave myself a break knitting simple Mistaken Rib stitch in the North American way.

The past Saturday painting session subject was something a little bit different:

 

 

For many years our house was female dominated. Two girls, one boy, C and I. Alas, the girls have grown up and moved away while B has moved back in, bringing with him one full time suite mate and sequential male visitors. At times I feel like a fraternity mother. 

The plus side is they like to cook. Forgoing the gas grill, they prefer the charcoal fueled Weber Smokey Joe. Omar assumes the role of head chef:

He comes with the added benefit of being a real pastry chef. Carmel sauce for the cherry apple crumble:

Ashley is the bartender. Being a frat house means occasional excessive drinkage on party nights. At least they are not driving. Enough said:

This night's menu included barbecued chicken: 

Veal roast:

And yummy dessert:

I miss my girls but being the frat house mom can have its benefits.

 

When C walks in the door in five hours or so he will be officially retired. The party's been had, the speeches done, the gifts received, his working career is over in a nice way. He is ready. Not sure I am, but we have exciting times ahead. 

He has worked the past 17 years in the office at a shipping terminal. The day he got his job his horoscope read "Your ship has come in." Now, on his last day, a new ship is scheduled to arrive in port. It's name? The Santiago. I guess his ship has come in as retirement planning includes a trek on the Camino de Santiago. His work has ended, bring on the next phase!

The party was on Friday night:

The gift presented above, is a frame with pictures taken of us at the company Christmas Party this year. One of the best pictures ever of us and one of the worst. I'll share the good one:

What makes it nice is that it exists. C REFUSES to have his picture taken by photographers, having ruined, with a frown or a silly face, what would have been nice shots. Blogless Marsha can attest to this as she has witnessed this behaviour on many a cruise ship. In this one, however, he is truly happy. He was probably thinking about retirement.

Now it's my turn. T minus 32 days and counting.